After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, him? God save No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd' The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye allow. Enter AUMERLE. Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? Aum. For aught I know, my Lord, they do. Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing. York. No matter then who sees it! I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me; It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not have seen. York. Which for some reasons, Sir, I mean to Duch. What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond That he is bound to! Wife, thou art a fool. Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. York. I will be satisfied; lel me see it, I say. [Snatches it, and reads Treason! foul treason! villain! traitor! slave! Duch. What is the matter, my Lord? York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant.] Saddle my horse. God for his mercy! what treachery is here! York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse: Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. Duch. I will not peace: What is the matter, son? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch. Thy life answer! Re-enter Servant, with boots. York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the King. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle-Poor boy, thou art amaz'd: Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.— [To the Servant. York. Give me my boots, I say. Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, And interchangeably set down their hands, To kill the King at Oxford. Duch. He shall be none; We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him? York. Away. Fond woman! were he twenty times my son, Luch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, As I have done, thou'dst he more pitiful. And that he is a bastard, not thy son: Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: Not like to me, or any of my kin, York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle: mount thee upon his horse; Spur, post; and get before him to the King, SCENE III. Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and other Lords. Bolingbroke. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full three months, since I did see him last :If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to God, my Lords, he might he found: Enquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there. Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, Percy. My Lord, some two days since I saw the Prince; And told him of these triumphs held at Ox ford: Boling. And what said the gallant? Percy. His answer was, - he would unto the stews; And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, Boling. As dissolute, as desperate yet, through both I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which edler days may happily bring forth. Enter AUMERLE, hastily. Aum. Where is the King? Boling. What means Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Aum. God save your Grace. I do beseech your Majesty, To have some conference with your Grace alouc. Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [Exeunt PERCY and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. |